A bit of cloud today
High of 67.
Bowled twice then out to Fry's Electronics to look for a portable scanner. Hey any of you readers know of a good one? Did end up buying a portable solar panel instead.
Lots more people at Bowls today, quite a few we haven't met before.
More friends from Sidney have arrived in the area, will see them soon.
Here's another excerpt from Forks in the Trail (I've been very remiss on this).
Minutes later the bow grated on the sand and shell particle beach; he shut off the motor and tilted it so that the propeller and leg were safe from banging on the bottom. Hopping out he dragged the boat further up onto the beach then tied the painter to a rock that was jutting out of the sand.
Getting back in the boat he changed the water in the fish tub and covered it with a damp fish rag then grabbing his knapsack he stepped back out onto the beach and after a moments hesitation headed to where the shore met the bush line and swung to his left.
As he walked he thought about some of the other times he had gone beachcombing; it was always more fun with someone else, his parents or grandparents, other young people from the community but most of all with his Aunt Teri.
“Aunt Teri!” He exclaimed aloud. “That’s it, I’ll go and talk to her.”
Roj always unconsciously had understood that he and his Aunt had a special relationship. When he was small she would, with Great Grandma Sophie, take him on forays in the bush and shores that surrounded Butevale. Later after Sophie had died the two of them spent many, many hours and days together. When he was old enough he often made the short trek to the cave/house that she refused to give up. She was always different from other people, a difference that was compelling to him. Perhaps the fact that she was more like an older sister than an Aunt was part of the attraction.
His mind now settled for the moment, his earlier agitation at rest, he moved on searching along the high tide line for anything that might be of interest.
Perhaps an hour later, a tangled coil of rope over one shoulder and an oar under one arm he turned and retraced his steps. When he got back, he chucked his treasures into the boat; noting that the tide was going out he gathered some drift wood and made a small fire. He unloaded his knapsack, selected his billy - can and using water from a mason jar, shoved the can against the fire. When the water was boiling he removed the can and dropped in a palm full of tea leaves from another small jar. While the tea was steeping he unwrapped two sandwiches and using a forked willow stick he had cut on the way back, toasted the first sandwich, ate it, then toasted the second and sipping tea from an enameled mug consumed it as well.
The tide was still dropping, so he unfolded a small tarpaulin he kept under the middle seat and lay it on the sand; first he sat then finally he eased onto his back and stared up into the blue of the sky and across the inlet where a few clouds were folding and unfolding amongst the mountain tops. Suddenly he slept.
High of 67.
Bowled twice then out to Fry's Electronics to look for a portable scanner. Hey any of you readers know of a good one? Did end up buying a portable solar panel instead.
Lots more people at Bowls today, quite a few we haven't met before.
More friends from Sidney have arrived in the area, will see them soon.
Here's another excerpt from Forks in the Trail (I've been very remiss on this).
Minutes later the bow grated on the sand and shell particle beach; he shut off the motor and tilted it so that the propeller and leg were safe from banging on the bottom. Hopping out he dragged the boat further up onto the beach then tied the painter to a rock that was jutting out of the sand.
Getting back in the boat he changed the water in the fish tub and covered it with a damp fish rag then grabbing his knapsack he stepped back out onto the beach and after a moments hesitation headed to where the shore met the bush line and swung to his left.
As he walked he thought about some of the other times he had gone beachcombing; it was always more fun with someone else, his parents or grandparents, other young people from the community but most of all with his Aunt Teri.
“Aunt Teri!” He exclaimed aloud. “That’s it, I’ll go and talk to her.”
Roj always unconsciously had understood that he and his Aunt had a special relationship. When he was small she would, with Great Grandma Sophie, take him on forays in the bush and shores that surrounded Butevale. Later after Sophie had died the two of them spent many, many hours and days together. When he was old enough he often made the short trek to the cave/house that she refused to give up. She was always different from other people, a difference that was compelling to him. Perhaps the fact that she was more like an older sister than an Aunt was part of the attraction.
His mind now settled for the moment, his earlier agitation at rest, he moved on searching along the high tide line for anything that might be of interest.
Perhaps an hour later, a tangled coil of rope over one shoulder and an oar under one arm he turned and retraced his steps. When he got back, he chucked his treasures into the boat; noting that the tide was going out he gathered some drift wood and made a small fire. He unloaded his knapsack, selected his billy - can and using water from a mason jar, shoved the can against the fire. When the water was boiling he removed the can and dropped in a palm full of tea leaves from another small jar. While the tea was steeping he unwrapped two sandwiches and using a forked willow stick he had cut on the way back, toasted the first sandwich, ate it, then toasted the second and sipping tea from an enameled mug consumed it as well.
The tide was still dropping, so he unfolded a small tarpaulin he kept under the middle seat and lay it on the sand; first he sat then finally he eased onto his back and stared up into the blue of the sky and across the inlet where a few clouds were folding and unfolding amongst the mountain tops. Suddenly he slept.
No comments:
Post a Comment